Electric Light
by NarQwibQwib
Summary: In a story picking up BioWare's original concept for ME2, Shepard is revived by the Geth instead of Cerberus. But being not nearly as familiar with organic bodies, the machines have to compromise. Heavily AU.


There was the silence, the cold, the odd pressure around his wrists that kept him awake, conscious, but not aware of what or who he was. The sound of his own breathing seemed distant, like it was not his but someone else's, in perfect sync with his struggling lungs. It had been that way for as long as he could remember, maybe days, maybe weeks, maybe decades. He did not know a different life, not anymore.

For a few precious seconds, something changed – there was a noise, somewhere in the back of his mind, a soft tapping, a voice calling him. He could feel his heart speeding up as the noise disappeared again, yearning for more, until he could feel the cold creep through his clothes and bones into his core.

There was light. There was noise. Blaring sirens, rattling guns, a woman's scream. It didn't seem so far away now, and he realised that the tapping had been steps, the floor vibrating under the weight of the heavy mechs, nothing but blurry silhouettes in his eyes. Adrenaline started rushing through his veins as he realised they were raising their guns at him, but he still could not move, the cold of the metal constraints around his wrists and neck now burning into his flesh. His muscles contracted, bones pressing against the locks, and he heard his blood rushing in his ears, knowing that he wouldn't make it as the guns powered up, aimed at his chest.

It was only after his hands had ripped through the shackles that he noticed the biotic static that had been building up around him, waves of dark energy washing over his body as he tore apart the last shackle around his neck, jumping to the side the same second, barely escaping a salve from the mech's Gun. Pain was rushing through his body as he hit the floor, rolling into cover.

Allowing himself a second to catch his breath, he peeked around the corner, only to see the woman he had heard screaming earlier defending herself from a second mech – a human woman, small in size, but more than holding her ground against the machine as she let out another cry, tearing apart its hull with a blast of biotics. Her head was surprisingly hairless for a human, her body covered in a multitude of tattoos, most black, some red, and he could see scars stretch across her body in a gruesome pattern.

He could feel himself standing up from the ground as he watched her, his body moving against his own will, and it was then that he remembered – that he was theirs, that they controlled him, and his arm raised, releasing a single, precise wave of biotics, disabling the second mech. It was a serene, god-like feeling as the machine toppled over, unmoving.

A metallic screech echoed from the walls, and it took him a moment to realise it had been his own voice, and that the human female was attacking him, static building up around her arms and neck as she approached him, murder on both of their minds – what a privilege, to take someone else's life, to see the rage and fear, all at once.

It was like they were dancing, entranced, throwing biotic wave after biotic wave, her movements aggressive where his were well-measured. Her soft flesh gave away beneath his talons as he got a hold of her arm, using her own movement against her, throwing her to the ground, a knee pressed against the small of her back. He could feel her bones giving in beneath his weight, close to breaking but not quite there as he prepared a last attack, static building up in his neck and around his hands quickly. His pulse was racing, indicating not only his excitement but also something else – that this was wrong, that letting them control him this way was wrong. That there were other things that demanded his attention. He could feel himself hesitating as he concentrated on the thin voice in the back of his mind, the dark energy that had built up around his fingers slowly dissipating.

Yes. There was something more important than killing this woman. The sirens were back in his ears, the noise suddenly almost deafening after the former almost blurry experience. His body was his, not theirs, not anyone else's to control. Not even of the soldiers that were swarming into the room like insects, their tiny assault Rifles aimed at them, hands shaky.

Their control over him was fading, and with every movement they made, he could feel their control growing weaker. His mandibles fluttered as he let them perform one last act of defiance, let them summon several singularities in the room, neutralizing the soldiers. Then they were gone. And despite all worries, all memories that came flooding back into his mind, all he could feel was relief. He had a past. A body. A name. The ecstasy he felt was almost unbelievable, but he had no time to stop and relish in it, the reality of the situation still weighing heavy on his shoulders. What he had done.

His legs carried him off to where the soldiers had come from – soldiers he could now identify as mercenaries of the Blue Suns. Something had opened his cell. Something had opened the cell of the woman that was still picking herself up from the floor, cursing at him. It was amusing, how many different swears humans had come up with despite their short time as a civilisation. He snorted, tapping away at the door to open it, the security surprisingly outdated for a prison-ship. That was where they were, after all. He remembered being brought here, his silent acceptance when he had realised that no one was going to listen to him. That the Reapers were coming, no matter whether Shepard was dead or alive.

"Hey, asshole! You planning to end this or what?" The woman's voice cut through the air, stopping his motions for a split second before he continued, mandibles fluttering agitatedly. He had no time for another fight with her.

"If one of us is planning to survive whatever is going on, then no. I don't have the patience." The door panel beneath his fingers flickered, finally switching to a bright green. He sighed, turning around to look at her – no matter his prejudices against her or her species, she could be a valuable asset for now. If she didn't attack him from behind again. "I, for one, plan to survive. We team up and maybe you survive as well." He could feel disgust rising in his chest, and he sucked in a deep breath as he looked at her. That he even considered working with her for a single second…

"Fuck you!" Her shout still echoed in the air as she jumped at him again, the same attack as before – she was making it too easy, although her technique would have likely fooled anyone lesser than him. To him, she was an open book, and he could see her expression change as she realised her mistake, his talons digging deep into her flesh this time as he threw her to the ground. Too easy. He had her right arm bent close to breaking point now, the other arm trapped beneath his knee, and he could hear her release a low whine as she tried to worm herself out of his grip, only making her situation worse. He simply held still, mandibles slowly flexing into a grin as he noticed her resolve fading.

"Don't worry, this is a temporary alliance, nothing more."

"Give me your name at least so I know who to murder once I'm out of here." He chuckled at her tone of voice, the venom of rage unmistakable as she spoke.

"Saren Arterius."


End file.
